


Vestigial Instincts

by Kiss_Shining



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bittersweet, Fetish, Foreplay, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Kink, Mildly Dubious Consent, Offhand Fic, Porn with minimal Plot, Saiyan Culture, Sexual Content, Sexual Violence, Slow Build, Switching, Unbeta-ed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-10-29 12:16:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20796509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiss_Shining/pseuds/Kiss_Shining
Summary: No matter how domesticated an animal was, in the end, an animal was still an animal. Goku and Vegeta find themselves experiencing this first hand, thus causing a ripple effect between them and everyone else around them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is, while having some semblance of a plot (?), is really just for me to practice smut writing. Of course, it’s kind of slow-building (I don’t do the whole wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am very well), but there’s still going to be a lot (at least for me, anyways). And it’s also subject to be updated even more sporadically than Smriti, as that one is my main priority. Why am I uploading this if it’s just to practice on my weaknesses? Well, no matter how crappy it is, it’s still GV. Which means it can be used to enlarge the BL fanbase lol. So yeah! Feel free to skip past this one if you want, read if you want, whatever floats your boat.
> 
> OOC tags can be added if needed, rating can be bumped up if requested.

“Aw Vegeta, you’re not still mad at me about before, are you? I already said I was sorry.”

On days like these, when Vegeta’s mind wasn’t fully rooted in the present, when his thoughts drifted and dispersed, he usually trained himself in the gravity machine until his bones creaked and his muscles ached. To some, his wife included, his near-compulsive routine was unhealthy at the very least and neurotic at most, but it was a catharsis to him. The pain was reminiscent of the days he was under Frieza, not because he wanted to remember, but simply because he couldn’t forget. Once a person was a soldier, he would always be a soldier, and Vegeta was no exception to that. At this moment, he lived in peaceful times, but an unforeseen enemy would always inevitably come around. Abo and Cado proved that quite well.

…Abo and Cado were also the reasons why Kakarot was nagging him so.

Vegeta had every intention of training in the gravity machine bright and early in the morning. Bulma had wanted to go on another family excursion, and he hadn’t given enough reasons for her to excuse him from it. So his solution was to work out until midday, and then spent the rest of the time staring at ridiculous animals in poorly constructed cages for the better half of the afternoon. It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was getting harder to deny his family’s wishes lately. Perhaps they had grown too much on him.

That was what he had planned. But of course, as Kakarot always did, he seemed to come around when it was least convenient. Just before dawn arrived, he was already in Vegeta’s face, pestering him about sparring together. Vegeta had immediately declined, but Kakarot was terrible at understanding the word _no_. Strange, considering that he used the word just fine in his day-to-day vernacular.

And thus went on with his pathetic attempts at apologizing for stealing his victory with Abo and Cado, saying that he “just wanted to make sure nothing else happened,” and “I’ll let you get the next one, promise.” While Vegeta had been peeved at that, perhaps even a bit humiliated—his brother looked up to him so much despite meeting so scarcely—it had been a fair trade. He had unwittingly taken the glory from Kakarot for what he had done for him, for those Namekians, and Kakarot had taken the glory from Vegeta in front of his brother. He accepted that, and he moved along. But for some reason, this third class oaf couldn’t take that as an answer either. In his mind, if Vegeta forgave him, then he would be willing to spar. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

“For the love of god, Kakarot—I don’t care about that,” Vegeta huffed impatiently, and he flew out of the window in his room, determined to ignore the complaints and the pleas behind him. But it was getting old incredibly fast, and when they were in front of the gravity machine, he whirred around, glaring heatedly at him.

“I don’t have the time nor the wherewithal to deal with you right now,” he hissed. “Surely you can find someone else to satisfy your insatiable urges for destruction.”

“But no one else is awake right now,” Kakarot whined, and it grated on the last of Vegeta’s patience. “Just you. And I thought that maybe—”

He had enough.

“Fine.”

As it was, it was just eking past six, and he lost a valuable half an hour of training just bickering with this incredibly stubborn buffoon. If he wanted to fight so badly, then he would get it. He would put all of his aggravation into every kick, punch, and blast he gave, and Kakarot had better not complain.

“Really?! That’s great.”

“Not here,” Vegeta added when Kakarot made a beeline for his gravity room. He would be damned if it was destroyed and he would have to wait another two days for it to be fixed, the first due to fixing it from scratch, and the second due to Bulma’s spitefulness. “We’ll fight where no one else is around. Lead the way.”

All too quickly, Kakarot recovered, revealing a full set of teeth and dimples that he scoffed at, and for a long while, he followed Kakarot into an open space of gravel and bare land in the middle of nowhere.

But it wasn’t nowhere. It was the place that they had originally fought way back when, at least a decade ago, when Vegeta had first descended onto Planet Earth. It was where Vegeta was, for the first time, almost completely outmatched by those that he thought inferior to himself. It was where he found a worthy challenge. It was where he felt alive more than ever before.

He stared at Kakarot, who rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I’m not sure why I came back here,” he said, but his averted eyes spoke otherwise. “We can leave if you want.”

“No, this is fine.” He readied his stance, and Kakarot mirrored him, readying his own stance. For a long, tense moment, Vegeta stood completely still, watching the other’s movements. The intake of Kakarot’s breath. His knitted brows. His calculated eyes. His arm that protected his torso. His bare feet, firmly planted on the ground.

Vegeta made the first move.

If Kakarot was going to go on the defensive, then he had no intentions of attacking anytime soon. Which was fine by Vegeta, because he could use that time to figure out where he had openings. As he released a series of punches onto Kakarot’s protected torso and stomach, his eyes scanned his body. Finally, after what felt like too long, he found an opening. He opened one of his palms to release a ki blast on Kakarot’s arms, and then he kicked the back of his thighs, which caused him to momentarily lose balance. It was just enough time that Vegeta needed, and he delivered a fierce punch right into Kakarot’s torso, twisting his fist before jumping into the air. Despite Vegeta’s flurry of attacks, Kakarot had not thrown a single punch, watching, waiting for something.

It was starting to irritate him, just a little bit.

“Have you become so weak that you can’t even defend yourself properly, Kakarot?” He relaxed his stance, folding his arms. “Don’t make me waste my time. If you have no intentions of fighting, then I’m leaving.” Those seemed to be the magic words because Kakarot’s eyes changed.

“I’m just getting started,” Kakarot retorted, and he jumped to his feet and immediately charged forward, meeting him in the sky. Smirking, Vegeta did the same, and they began to punch each other viciously, searching for any openings and exploiting them fully. Fists soon met fists and knees knocked loudly against each other, and they found themselves in a deadlock when one of them grabbed the other’s hands and pushed. It left them with only their legs, but their knees hadn’t helped much. But then Kakarot leaned forward and gave Vegeta a harsh head-butt, and the deadlock broke. He hissed lightly, wiping the blood that sluggishly streamed down his face, and licking the blood away from his nose. It was disgusting, but the more that this went on was the more that Vegeta found himself unconsciously giving into something, and their relatively civil sparring match slowly became something a bit more brutal.

It was something that Kakarot had done that had made something in Vegeta snap, and he snarled, opening his mouth and biting in the air, inches away from Kakarot’s face. And just like before, when he was in his defensive stance, Kakarot’s eyes changed again, back to how they were before. If Vegeta had been more observant, he would have recognized it, but something had taken a hold of him as well. It was unfolding, unfurling into the atmosphere, ugly, rugged, and carnal, something that blinded him from reasoning and took away his inhibitions, and he found himself on the floor, rolling around in the dirt with his rival, coming close to biting Kakarot’s nose off but failing fantastically. He scratched, he growled, and almost like a call, Kakarot growled back, although he never scratched, never even attempted to attack. He only pushed Vegeta down to the floor, relenting just enough to allow Vegeta to flip their positions and hold him in a chokehold, and then Kakarot flipped him on his back, hovering over him, gnarling lowly as he pinned Vegeta’s arms at his sides and his legs under his knees.

“I win,” he said breathlessly, and those words resonated within Vegeta.

Slowly, he tilted his head to the side slightly, and after a moment, he angled his head, completely baring his neck for the other Saiyan. It was only a beat of silence after that Vegeta realized what he just done, what had just happened, and he froze entirely, his breath seizing in his chest. He turned his head back towards Kakarot, dreading what his expression would look like. There was no way that he would know what had just occurred. He was nothing more than a piddly Earthling in Saiyan flesh; he had no knowledge of their customs or rituals, and he made it abundantly clear that he had no desire to learn either.

But as he scrutinized Kakarot’s face, he saw his pupils contract, his eyes become darker and sharper, and underneath the confusion and surprise, there was something else. Somewhere, perhaps instinctually, Kakarot had understood what Vegeta had done, even if he didn’t realize it. And that spelled nothing but trouble for the both of them. Vegeta bucked his hips, more than eager to get away from him, but the idiot hadn’t even budged, still very much in a daze.

“Get up,” he barked, and then he pushed him away harshly when he didn’t move. Kakarot fell back on his arse, perplexed, and then recognition for his surroundings fell on him and his eyes lightened, his expression clearing. Bemusement was written all over his face, almost as if he woke up from a dream he didn’t know he was in, but Vegeta wasn’t in any mood to bring him up to speed. He wanted to extricate himself from the situation as fast as he could before something could happen, and he knew that if given the chance, something irrevocable _would_ happen.

“I think we’re done for today,” he stated, and he already blasted off as fast as he could without looking back. Almost immediately, Kakarot stood up and followed him, and when that wasn’t enough, when his fading calls for Vegeta to stop didn’t halt him in his tracks, Kakarot teleported in front of him, frowning. As if it weren’t unequivocally apparent that Vegeta wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

“Wait, why are you leaving?” With a scowl, Vegeta flew around him, but stopped short when Kakarot appeared in front of him again. “Come on, explain it to me. Did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

“Is it because you lost?”

Vegeta gritted his teeth.

“_No_.”

“Then is it—”

“I’ve fought with you like you’ve requested,” Vegeta curtly interrupted. He could keep this short, sweet, and to the point without indulging in any details that would bring attention to what had transpired or, even worse, create an opportunity for more questions. “And now that I have, I’m leaving.”

“But you never backed down from a fight before!”

“Then I suppose this time will mark the first,” he snapped, and he flew away as fast as he could without looking back. He was all too lucky that Kakarot had finally gotten the hint that he didn’t want any more out of this.

When he returned back to Capsule Corporation at twenty-two past eight, he was greeted by his son who tugged on his arm excitedly and his wife, who arched her eyebrow delicately.

“You’re back pretty early,” she greeted. “Despite what you said, you’re pretty pumped up about this, huh.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, and he was about to push past her when her hand reached out for his wrist. She rubbed the palm of his hand with the pad of her thumb before she released him, and he paused, waiting for her to say something. But in the end, she changed her mind, shaking her head slightly with a small smile.

“Try not to take too long,” she whispered, and her voice was practically dripping with concern. His face must have revealed something that was probably too sensitive for his tastes, and he jerkily nodded, setting his jaw and walking out of the living room, but not without ruffling Trunks’ hair first. It wasn’t either of their faults that he was in a sour mood, and even though it was hard to convey it with words, he hoped that his actions spoke for themselves.

When he was in his room, he walked straight into the bathroom and flicked on the lights with a finger, and then he planted his hands on the edge of the sink and stared at himself. He stared at his pale complexion, at his darkened eyes and his bleeding lip, and at the crusted blood on the top of his forehead. If he looked like this, it was no wonder Bulma had been concerned. She probably thought that he pushed himself too hard and was on the brink of exhaustion. He probably was.

Despite trying so hard to avoid it, Vegeta’s eyes gradually drifted to his torso, to his unmarred neck.

For all of these years, almost a decade, no matter how many people Vegeta fought and lost to, no matter how many times he fought Kakarot even, before this moment, he had never once bared his neck, never even thought to bare his neck. Even before that, when he was with Raditz and Nappa, two Saiyans that, by all means, should have had been the recipients of it on one occasion or another, he had never once had the inclination to do so. Then what changed? What could have triggered him so much that he subconsciously allowed Kakarot, of all people, to have permission to become his mate?

What could have impressed Vegeta so much that he was willing to—to _submit_ to him?

He didn’t know. Even regarding himself now, he didn’t have the faintest idea. But what Vegeta did know was that he had no desire to court him. He had a stubbornly intelligent wife and a strong, healthy child, and although Bulma wasn’t his mate, she was dear to him. To disregard her dedication and love to him was simply unacceptable; he wouldn’t do it even if it costed him his life. But at the same time, the damage was already done. Now that he presented himself to Kakarot, Kakarot would respond in like kind. And if his expression was any indication, then Kakarot would respond favorably, even if he wouldn’t be fully cognizant of it. He would most likely try to appease Vegeta, trying to woo him with materialistic gifts, unaware of the ramifications of his actions. He wouldn’t know that he was setting himself up to claim Vegeta until it was too late. And at that point, nothing would matter anymore. Not Bulma, not Trunks, not Kakarot’s wife, not Gohan nor Goten, and least of all anyone else.

Vegeta squeezed the sink so hard that it cracked.

What had he done?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He just wanted to understand, but even more than that, he wanted his forgiveness. But sometimes good intentions just weren’t enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crappy limes incoming. 
> 
> OOC tags can be added if requested.

Vegeta was acting strange lately.

Well, that wasn’t anything new; Vegeta always was strange in that brooding way of his, always opting to be by himself. He was kind of like Piccolo—neither of them really liked to stick around unless something happened, and it was always like pulling teeth to get them to do anything even remotely fun. But unlike Piccolo, Vegeta didn’t really click with anyone outside of Trunks and maybe Bulma, and Goku? Well, Goku usually had to be pretty persistent if he even wanted to see his face for five seconds. But even then, it wasn’t as if Vegeta would do it because he saw the value in their friendship; it was really because he was just too fed up to say no. That was on a good day.

Now, Vegeta wouldn’t even _look _at him no matter how much he bugged him.

At first, Goku thought to give him his space. He wanted to, but their last sparring match kept bugging him for some reason. There was just something about it, something that nagged at him, something important that he missed. He found himself visiting Vegeta even more than he thought he would, more than he ought to, just so he could see if maybe Vegeta could explain it to him, if it wasn’t just him. But when he came around the first time a few days after, Vegeta kicked him out. He hadn’t even tried to listen to him; he just pushed him hard enough that Goku found himself stumbling out of Capsule Corporation and onto their front step. It was then Goku realized that it wasn’t just him; something really_ did_ happen that day, even if he didn’t know what. And it probably was something that Goku did. He would admit that he wasn’t the most observant in the world, but if he did something wrong, he was always more than ready to own up to it.

Vegeta wasn’t the type of guy who liked really showy presents, so Goku went into a nearby river and fetched him a live whitefish. It was the biggest one he could find, a real killer—and with it still writhing, he teleported back to Capsule Corporation and back to Vegeta’s room, where he was lounging on his couch, his legs crossed and his arms folded. He bolted upright when Goku came in with what he hoped would have been a satisfying lunch, but unlike what he expected, Vegeta paled considerably and immediately demanded that he left.

“But why,” he had asked, and Vegeta shook his head once before holding his hand out, a small energy ball dancing on the top of his palm.

“Either you leave with that thing right now,” he had hissed, “or I’ll blast it and you with it.”

That day, Goku had returned to the river, sulking and more than just a bit offended because he didn’t remember doing anything that would cause Vegeta to be that angry with him, and he dumped the fish back. Goku wasn’t anything if he wasn’t persistent though, and the more that Vegeta pushed back was the more that Goku was determined to get back in his good graces. He brought him half of the crops that he picked from the garden the next attempt. That time was even worse; Vegeta didn’t even warn him this time, he just blasted all of the radishes in Goku’s wool bag and stalked away with a snarl. Chichi hadn’t been too happy that day.

Every time after Vegeta blatantly ignored him. Two weeks and then a month passed by without a word, and Goku felt even antsier than usual. Goku wasn’t angry; he just wanted to understand. What had he done wrong that day? Could he fix it? Why did he even feel so eager to resolve this as soon as possible? He didn’t know. All he knew was that Vegeta’s quirkiness was coming off on him even with Goten and Chichi around, and no matter what he did or how much he tried to apologize, Vegeta just ignored him. It was…strangely uncomfortable.

On the fourth or fifth time that Vegeta sent him away, he had went to Bulma to see if she knew what was wrong. But she only patted his shoulder sympathetically with a “_give it some time. I’m sure that whatever it is, he’ll forget about it eventually_.” That—that just wasn’t good enough for him. He needed something, and he needed it quickly. An answer. He needed an answer.

Yeah, that felt about right. Goku needed an answer from him.

This time, Vegeta was training in the gravity room, fully preoccupied enough that Goku could charge in; this time, he wasn't going to. More often than not he would, and he’s done so in the past, but he had a feeling that if he did that this time, Vegeta would just outright attack him and—why didn’t he think about that before? Of course Vegeta should attack him! It would give Goku another chance to get to the bottom of whatever this was. When this was all over, the two of them could go back to training together every so often and Goku wouldn’t feel so impatient and Vegeta wouldn’t be as cold anymore. Everything would return back to normal.

He teleported there, already anticipating that he was either going to be kicked in his head or in his side, and he blocked soundly. After jumping back into the arms of safety, he waved at Vegeta, grinning. Vegeta was less than amused.

“Kakarot,” he began flatly, his stance carefully relaxed, “haven’t I made it abundantly clear that I don’t want to interact with you for a while? Surely you can’t be that thick.”

“See, that’s the thing,” Goku said. “Why _don’t_ you wanna talk to me? Nothing’s ever stopped you before. Did I do something wrong?”

He sighed. “It’s not you.”

Goku heard that before, and nothing led him to believe that anything changed from the first time Vegeta said that.

“Then prove it. Spar with me, right here and now.”

“No. This and that are completely irrelevant.”

“Is it? Because you weren’t like this before last month.” The hum of the gravity machine poured into the silence, and Goku stepped a bit closer. “C’mon, you know I wouldn’t ever try to hurt your feelings on purpose. You know that, don’t you?” He stepped even closer, close enough that Vegeta had to tilt his head up to meet his gaze. Vegeta’s fists were clenching and relaxing at his sides, itching to do something. Goku took that as a good sign. This time for sure he would make things right. 

“Just once,” he prodded, “for an hour.”

“…Ten minutes,” Vegeta finally answered, resigned, and he immediately lashed out with a kick that almost took Goku off-guard with how powerful it was. It wasn’t that Vegeta normally didn’t kick that hard; it was just that his strength seemed to be amplified by the several hundred times gravity around them. More than a bit triumphant, Goku blocked it and ignoring the sting on his arm, landed a punch that was a little on the side of Vegeta’s torso.

Vegeta grunted, but he wasted no time returning what Goku gave; he charged in and punched Goku squarely in his left cheek, something that he usually didn't do—attacks to the face were easily able to be blocked and were generally one of the easiest ways to leave openings—and then he attempted to knee Goku in the stomach, but came into contact with Goku’s other arm. Jumping back, Goku wiped the small trail of blood that escaped his lips.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he complained, and Vegeta snorted.

“You wanted a fight, didn’t you? I’m giving you what you wanted.” His eyes flickered to the control panel and back to Goku. “You have nine minutes left.”

Goku wasn’t sure which appalled him more: the fact that Vegeta was actually counting or the fact that he was doing this out of a strange sense of obligation and nothing more, but either way, he didn’t like it. It was true that he initiated this match, but Vegeta always jumped at the chance to fight him! He was always going on and on about how he wouldn’t let Goku defeat him and how he’d get even one day, and now he doesn’t even want to be bothered? Didn’t Vegeta train day in and day out just for this?

He couldn’t accept this. If Vegeta wasn’t willing to give it his all, then Goku would pull it out of him. He wouldn’t feel satisfied with this match otherwise, even if he did manage to make things right.

He flared his ki just a little bit, enough that Vegeta would know that he was serious, and then he teleported in back of him and fired a single ki blast. As he predicted, Vegeta blocked it, but he was only able to partially block his next attack, a punch to the other side of his ribs. Vegeta hissed and jumped back a good distance, leaning heavily on one foot and discreetly rubbing his side, and Goku smirked.

“Seems like you’re saying that I can beat you in nine minutes,” Goku goaded. “You haven’t landed a clean hit on me yet.”

Just as he wanted, Vegeta glared at him, thoroughly insulted and more than invigorated enough to take this seriously. He got into his fighting stance.

“You’ll regret those words, Kakarot,” was his warning, and then he charged forward, throwing sharp punches that Goku blocked and returned with his own. Before he knew it, five minutes have passed since Vegeta started to go all out. Vegeta punched him squarely in the face, right near his nose, and Goku gave one back to Vegeta's cheek. He watched with a misplaced sense of satisfaction when Vegeta did nothing more than turn the other cheek and spit out the tooth that Goku knocked loose.

Not a second passed before Vegeta charged right back in, and their hands interlocked once more, pushing and pulling in this tug of war that didn’t seem to end for minutes. But Vegeta’s eyes flashed, and he lifted up his foot and kicked Goku to the disgustingly moist ground, full of sweat and spit and who knows what else, and some sort of innate switch triggered in the back of Goku’s mind.

When Vegeta followed him on the floor, pouncing on top of him and planting his knees on Goku’s arms, perfectly trapping them in place, Goku laid there, still as a cobra, his mind much too hazy and his senses much too sharp. He had no idea what was going on anymore, only that he somehow bucked Vegeta off of him with his hips and was leaning over him. Vegeta was snarling, writhing around like the fish that Goku had caught some time ago, and Goku leaned forward just enough that his body was draped over Vegeta’s, his hands holding Vegeta’s wrists and his knees touching the outer part of Vegeta’s thighs. A guttural growl rose from Goku’s stomach and rumbled out, and like that time before, like a month ago when things had strangely gotten out of control, Vegeta stopped, and his body went almost completely limp.

Just like that time, he turned his head, a little less than before this time, almost as if he were fighting to keep his eyes trained on Goku. He gritted his teeth and his bones clenched, but his eyes were half-lidded and he was breathing sporadically, frantically.

It was then that Goku faintly realized: _this_ was it. This was what he was looking for. This is what he needed.

Goku lowered himself just a little, just enough that he could get closer to Vegeta’s neck, and Vegeta went completely stiff in his hold. He moved down even further, closer to the juncture between his neck and his shoulder, and Vegeta’s neck craned just enough that Goku could open his mouth and have a taste. Just a taste.

“W-wait—_ngh_.” Vegeta hissed when Goku took a sweeping lick at the side of his neck. His body relaxed again, and he tilted his head fully to the side, and when Goku pulled back enough to look at him, he saw something that he had never seen before, an expression that went straight into his bloodstream and curled under his stomach, right in his groin. He shifted a bit, holding Vegeta’s wrists a bit tighter, and he wordlessly returned back to his neck, his fuzzy mind strangely preoccupied with that one spot. Goku took a small nip on it, right near the nape of his neck, Vegeta’s hips jutted forward, and he felt something distinctly firm and warm brush against the side of his thigh. He wanted to feel it again, and with that lingering thought in his mind, he bit a little harder at Vegeta’s neck and sucked, and under him, Vegeta groaned, low and heavy, arching his back just enough that Goku could feel it even better this time.

Hunger clawed through Goku’s body and wrapped itself in his mind, and he adjusted himself so that way his knee was nestled right near Vegeta’s crotch. Taking the bait, Vegeta unconsciously bent his body forward, just enough that he could get even a little bit of friction. It wasn't long after when something changed in his eyes, and he slowly became still. His mouth set into a bitter grimace, and he began to push at Goku’s chest. It was half-hearted at best though, and Goku could tell, so he didn’t let up. He only pushed his knee in further, drawing a choked sound from Vegeta. But when it became too much, when Goku started to grind on Vegeta’s leg as well, when they started to get into this strange, lopsided rhythm and Goku felt something rise in him to reach forward and firmly plant his teeth in that same juncture that he played with just minutes before, Vegeta’s hoarse voice rang out between them.

“_Don’t_.”

And like a bucket of cold water, Goku flinched, and he came back to his senses. He came back to his senses so much, in fact, that he realized what he was doing—what he had done—and he stared down at Vegeta unblinkingly. He took in his reddened cheeks, his glassy, narrowed eyes, his furrowed eyebrows, and the trail of saliva on the side of his taut mouth and on his chin, and the bruised mark on his shoulder. With a yelp, he quickly climbed off of him, and he waited for Vegeta to do the same. Slowly, he did, but he turned his back to Goku, but not without before Goku had the unfortunate chance of seeing his strained cock in his jumpsuit.

“Vegeta…” Goku swallowed. What just happened? What had he done? “I’m…” Sorry? But he wasn’t. He was just confused. How had it come to this? He didn’t even know how he ended up over Vegeta; he only knew that something had changed, and he went along with it. That ended up with him pinning Vegeta down and doing something that he was pretty sure that was never going to get out of his mind.

“Save your breath.” Vegeta briskly paced to the control panel, turned it off, and then paced to the exit. “I trust that you can see yourself out.”

“Wait—I didn’t mean to,” Goku said, and Vegeta paused at the doorway. “I don’t know what got a hold of me, but I promise that I didn’t mean to do that. I only came here to make up with you, not this.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I know,” Vegeta stiffly replied after a while. “But this isn’t something that can be solved with a simple apology.”

He opened the door, and Goku fidgeted for a moment. He felt an unexpected pang of relief when Vegeta partially faced him again.

“Tomorrow, you will meet me before dawn. I’ll explain everything then.”

Without giving Goku a chance to respond, he flew off somewhere far away. Goku didn’t have the heart to stop him.

* * *

Goku returned home to a piping hot and hearty meal with all of the dishes he liked, and the sour mood that had settled over him dissipated almost instantly. Rubbing his hands, he wandered over to where Chichi was staring at an elegantly prepared table with her hands on her hips, smiling proudly. He leaned his chin on her shoulder and snaked his hands around her waist, pressing her closely to his chest. She sniffed a few times before her smile crumpled to a frown.

“You smell,” she said bluntly, pushing him away. “Have you been working out again?”

He hummed, his mind wandering to a few hours ago.

“Something like that,” he replied noncommittally, and he allowed her to pry herself away from him.

“I hope that you did your work today before you went roughhousing again.” She tilted her head up to his, catching his eyes. “You _did_, didn’t you?”

“Ah…” He might have forgotten to tend to the fields in his absentmindedness. It seemed like Chichi came to the same conclusion herself, because she whirled on him, and he immediately held up his hands in capitulation. She had every right to get angry with him; she had been pretty lenient with Goten even after Goku came back to stay back with them for good, and she even let Goku train with Goten with the condition that he would keep up with his side of the bargain. Which is what he happened to neglect today, and not for the first time this month.

“Now you listen here, Goku!” She opened her mouth, and then closed it before she slowly deflated. “Fine, I’ll give you a pass for today.” Suddenly, she reached forward and grabbed Goku’s cheeks with one hand, tilting his face to the left and right before nodding to herself. “Especially since you’re looking a lot better now.”

“I am?”

“Sure you are. You looked awful even up to a few days ago.” The lines of worry smoothed on her face when she scrutinized him a little longer, and she finally beamed, smacking his chest. “I’m glad to see that you’re alright. That means that next time you won’t get a free pass, you hear me?”

Like he did almost every time she got angry at him this month, he agreed half-heartedly, and satisfied, she went outside, presumably to call Goten. But Goten wasn’t anywhere near where they were; he was probably with Gohan again, and Chichi and Goku ate by themselves. She reminded him about Goten’s exams; he asked her to hold it off a little while with the promise of doing even twice the amount of work he was owed. They ended up bickering for the entire meal, but it was comforting to him, especially in lieu of what happened before.

When nighttime came, while Chichi snuggled close to him, he thought back to how angry Chichi had been, and a disturbing question floated to the forefront of his mind. Chichi got angry at him a lot. A lot of times Goku did something that got on her nerves, and when she inevitably blew up at him, he learned to just take it as it was and do better the next time. He learned from experience that he would never win a verbal battle with her, and she always had this spiteful streak about her that never failed to bite him where it hurt the most. He was used to her anger, but besides soothing her a bit, he didn’t do much to get back in her good graces. Chichi was Chichi, and she wouldn’t be swayed by anything.

Which rose the question: if he did something so egregious—and he never would try to, not on purpose; Chichi was someone irreplaceable to him just like all of his other friends and family—that she became as cold as Vegeta had, would he have tried to do everything in his power to get her to forgive him?

It didn’t matter if he would or he wouldn’t. The answer was wrong either way.

That night, Goku found that he couldn’t sleep entirely well, an unfamiliar knot of guilt setting in his throat. He hadn’t done anything wrong, he hadn’t hurt Chichi in any way; he was just concerned about Vegeta, concerned that they might have lost this fragile friendship between them. But for some reason, this didn’t feel like that. It wasn’t just concern; he hadn’t stopped _that_ because he was concerned, he hadn’t rubbed one out in the forest afterwards because he was just concerned—

Goku buried his face in the pillow in an attempt to mute the thoughts in his head.

He hoped that whatever Vegeta said tomorrow would clear up matters, but he had a feeling it would only complicate things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <strike>I. AM SO EMBARRASSED.</strike> I don't know how I'm going to do the smut scene(s) when I can't even do this god help me.
> 
> I--sigh. So I know that Goku has never really shown a lot of affection to Chichi in neither Z nor Super/GT, but I still remember the super early (and cute) moments where Goku actually blushed when Chichi used to hug him (and then was reminded with the awesome power of Twitter) and when he used to be so damn bashful and it's just. It was adorable. And I hate romance with a passion, so. (Yes, point the hypocritical sign towards me, I'll take it. But I don't do fluffy and gushy romance. I guarantee you won't find that with any story I make. Sweet, maybe. That? No. Hell no.)
> 
> I dunno, maybe it's because something was apparently lost in translation between series why those moments are really sweet to me instead of cringy or disgusting, but I wanted to add a little bit of that here. Even if it's not in this universe (since _Yo! Son Goku and Friends Return_ is a part of the Super timeline, just before K2K but after Buu, I think) it's still something that could happen, you know? But anyways.
> 
> (<s>Even more than that, why are fighting scenes so hard to write.</s>)

**Author's Note:**

> Perhaps the message that I'll be unintentionally sending might be a bit too dogmatic. Sorry in advance.


End file.
